It was my turn to laugh. “I appreciate the warning but I’m not looking to fall in love with a rock star.”
“Good,” she said with emphasis. “Rock stars make lousy boyfriends.”
I tipped my drink to her. “You should know.”
“It’s not my first rodeo,” she smiled. “You just have to know how to separate the image from the man. One is very easy to love – almost too easy. He’s sexy. He’s romantic. He says all the right things to keep you on the line as long as it is advantageous for him to do so. That makes it all too easy for the other guy to break your heart when he can’t live up to the hype.”
I nodded. I knew what she meant. Sounded like rock stars were just like any other guy, only with more opportunities. But she really didn’t have to worry. I had no intentions whatsoever of becoming some starry-eyed groupie chasing all over the country to make Giovanni Carnevale fall in love with me.
At that moment his eyes met mine from across the room and I felt my heart drop somewhere below my knees.
No, I didn’t need him to love me. But a night with some budding superstar would make a nice story to share with my grandkids someday. With an evil smile I thought to myself, “But not tonight.” I signaled the bartender and paid my tab.
Mr. Carnevale wasn’t the only person who could leave them wanting more.
Hours later, a little after three in the morning, I was rewarded for my strategic maneuver. I received a text from a New York number that invited me personally to the next gig for Dreaming in Blue. The text ended with, “Shirts optional. V.”
I couldn’t stop smiling as I drifted off to sleep, where I dreamed of Central Park, Times Square and a tall, beautiful Italian with dark eyes and long, wavy hair.
~Andy~
There was a chill in the air, that crisp breeze that filters between the tall buildings right before the snow falls. It was Christmastime in New York City, and I was there, as planned, to hang out with Iris, Alana and the band for both the holiday season and Giovanni’s birthday.
It had only been a few months but things were seriously starting to happen professionally for Dreaming in Blue. Jasper signed the group that night in Philly when I had left early, and they returned to a frantic schedule that included recording, rehearsing and publicity. They got better gigs, this time as opening acts for more well-known headliners. There would be parties and interviews, and I used my vacation time to tag along with Iris and the gang to broaden my entertainment portfolio.
I managed to sell the travel piece on the club where I had seen the band initially in Philadelphia, and it helped give the band a bit of a bump in regional travel magazines where my article had been featured. Iris used some of my comments in the press kits, and Jasper commissioned my services for some promotional articles he could submit to entertainment magazines. In effect this was a working vacation, but it was finally doing what I wanted to do so I had been chomping at the bit to hit the ground running.
Plus I would get to see Vanni again, and just thinking about it made my heart skip a beat. Two weeks after I published my article I received a bouquet of flowers that were signed, “Till next time. V.” There were emails and text messages that grew more random as the band’s schedule filled, but started again in earnest with a special call on my birthday at the end of October.
He was funny, he was sweet. Though he was a huge flirt he was also kind and romantic. He’d venture into sexual innuendo but willing to walk right back out again when I’d change the subject. He was smart enough to talk on most any subject, so even though there was an undercurrent of sexual interest there was also a foundation of friendship.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. But there were just as many nights after a phone call I needed a long, cold shower to get to sleep.
By December I knew it wasn’t a matter of if I would sleep with him, it was when.
And his twenty-ninth birthday seemed like the perfect occasion. He had dropped hints beforehand as to what kind of gift I could give him, and what kind of gift he wanted. I gave as good as I got, teasing him with no real commitment as to where our relationship would go from there.
Alana’s words rang as true in my ears as Iris’s warning when she called just a week prior to iron out the details of the trip. I casually mentioned I had decided to book a hotel room as opposed to stay with her, and my lovely friend quickly read between the lines. She reiterated Alana’s warning about the rocker limitations. Vanni was a nice distraction, but totally not boyfriend material.
I laughed it off, and assured her that I had no interest in becoming another notch on Vanni’s belt. But this time my suitcase held six pieces of clothing instead of just five. The present I had planned for Vanni would be wrapped in satin and lace of his favorite color – blue, of course – and it would be something I’d encourage him to take his time unwrapping.
Who was looking for a boyfriend? Sleeping with Vanni, especially on the verge of his successful career, would simply be an interesting story someday.
I wasn’t falling for the man. That was impossible. I barely knew him. But I knew he wanted me, and I wanted him, and there were few other reasons required to explore that kind of attraction in modern America. I renewed my birth control and bought some condoms – a must for any sexually active adult – and figured I was a big enough girl to take whatever else that followed.
But as each day raced toward the trip my daydreams became even more complex and involved. I indulged fantasies in just about any kind of romantic scenario that would surely make this week the week of my life.
No pressure.
The scent of flowers hit me immediately when I opened the door of my hotel room, which overlooked Central Park. The huge floral display sitting on the desk took me off guard, but immediately warmed my heart. I became giddy… breathless. It hit me that soon I would finally be in his arms after months of thinking and fantasizing about it. I ripped the message out of the tiny envelope, hungry to hear that he was as excited about this prospect as I was.
My balloon promptly deflated when I read the message and realized the large flower bouquet was from Jasper and not Vanni at all.
It was a small price to pay for my services, but he was definitely greasing the wheels for my semi-volunteer status for his new pet band. Iris had already warned me that I’d be the an industry darling as long as I was willing to work for free, but that my services would only be valued on the price I was willing to put on them.
With a sigh I put the card back in the envelope. I checked my phone for the hundredth time but no one texted me upon my arrival. This was odd for someone like Iris, but probably more commonplace for someone like Vanni. I chalked it up to their being busy and decided to freshen up before I headed out into the city for some lunch.
I made tracks straight for Central Park, my favorite place to prowl in New York City. With my satchel slung over my shoulder and a hot dog full of grilled onions and sauerkraut in my hand, I disappeared into the country oasis in the midst of the towering skyscrapers. I didn’t care that it was about to snow, I was revitalized by the energy of the city. I needed to keep moving or I’d probably burst in two.
I switched on my MP3 player, which just so happened to be cued to the new demo material recorded by Dreaming in Blue. Just the sound of Vanni’s voice made me smile. I had become a pretty big fan over the last several months, having that voice sing naughty words into my ear was apparently enough to win my favor. My favorite, for obvious reasons, was a tune called “Wanting Her,” a sensual ballad with a primal rock beat that told the story of needing to have someone you just met. I usually listened to that one twice when I listened to all the rest. It was playing for the third time as I wound my way through the park, stopping briefly to pay my respects to John Lennon at Strawberry Fields.
After whiling away a couple of hours I headed back to my hotel room, just in time to receive a text from Iris. “Sending a car. Be ready at three. Dress like you’re getting paid for it. Xoxo Iris.”
Even without a winky face emoticon I knew she wasn’t being catty or bitchy. She knew how to navigate this town and I was still learning. The good news is I had more than two decades of experience dressing myself. That probably didn’t help Iris feel any better as she no doubt had a minor breakdown that she couldn’t orchestrate a major makeover on me prior to my meeting Jasper Carrington at his Manhattan office.
I took a page from the French and dressed in layers, most of which were black, with a scarf and hat complimenting the outfit. I looked edgy and hip, which I figured fit the bill of what Jasper wanted me to do for the band. I was barely nervous at all when the car picked me up in front of the hotel, and remarkably had several fingernails left by the time we reached the tall office building for Carrington Entertainment.
I rode wordlessly up in the elevator and strode across the reception area right to Jasper’s office suite as if I were paid large amounts of money to do so. He wasn’t in his office when I arrived, a power play no doubt, and I was instructed to wait in the sparsely decorated but rich interior of his office suite.
I knew if I sat still I’d probably just dissolve into useless human goo so I paced around the large office, which had views of the city facing out from every wall. There were gold albums, platinum albums, signed instruments and awards (so that was how heavy a Grammy was, I had always wondered,) all of which were scattered across the walls and on bookshelves. There were also a lot of photos of Athena, Jasper’s wife, a rising star so bright she only needed the one name.
The door open and Jasper walked in. He had ice blue eyes and a bright silver mane, the signs of distinguished sophistication that had come at a young age for this record mogul. I knew because I had researched him the minute I got home from the Philly trip. He was only 49 but looked 69, which helped him exude a powerful edge that no doubt allowed him to wheel and deal and make superstars out of nobodies.
Maybe that would benefit me somehow. One could only hope.
“Miss Foster,” he greeted with a smooth smile. “So nice to finally meet you.”
I reached out a hand. “The feeling is mutual.”
He gestured to a chair. “Please. Sit.”
I sat.
He walked around his huge desk and sat in the oversized chair opposite me. “I’m so glad you could come to New York. You come highly recommended.”
I nodded with a smile. Iris knew how to sell people, even someone with thread bare credentials like me. “Thank you for this opportunity, sir.”
He waved his hand. “Please. Call me Jasper.” He leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers together. “Is Andy short for Andrea?”
I shook my head. “Nope. It’s just Andy. I think I was supposed to have been a boy and just surprised my parents on arrival.”
“I like it. There’s a certain ambiguity about it that works to our advantage. You look like a groupie, but publish like a man. It’s the perfect disguise.”
I didn’t know what to say. Somehow I felt I should be offended, but it wasn’t as though I didn’t use my masculine name to my own favor when it suited me.
I think it was the groupie part that bothered me more.
“This works especially well with gossip,” he continued.
“I’m not sure I want to write a gossip column,” I interjected but he just smiled.
“It’s part of publicity. You know what they say – there’s no such thing as bad press as long as they’re still talking about you.”
I supposed he had a point, but I was curious as to where he was going with this.
He didn’t make me wait long. He slid a folder across the desk. “As you know the band already signed the contract, and they are now working on their album. Right now I want to get buzz out there, and the best way to do that is with sex.”
“Sex sells,” I murmured in agreement as I opened the folder. The pictures inside immediately made my stomach drop. It was photo after photo, press clipping after press clipping, of Vanni with a beautiful, lithe brunette who looked like a South American supermodel.
This, of course, was exactly what she was.
“That’s Lourdes Roemer. Lingerie model. According to the press she and Vanni are really hot and heavy right now. I’d like for you to do an interview with both of them while you’re in town. Get something to me by the end of the week so we can have something in print by the new year.”
My eyes met his. I gulped down any distaste at the assignment with a forced, “Of course,” through my tightening throat. I already had plenty of questions lined up, like how long had they been hot and heavy? Was it before or after he flirted with me and made big plans on how I would help him celebrate his birthday?
Jasper wasn’t done. He handed me the band’s itinerary, which was packed full for the next seven days, including Vanni’s birthday just days before Christmas. “We’re really going balls to the wall so you’ll have to fit interviews with the band wherever you can in that schedule. I’ve given you press credentials to get you into all the venues, even the performances. It’s all in here.”
He handed me a packed manila folder. “So that should be enough to get you started. Set up an appointment at the end of the week so I can see what you have, and we’ll go from there.”
He gave me a dismissive smile as he rested both forearms on his desk, and I rose to my feet with my hands full of goodies I suddenly didn’t even know if I wanted. “Thank you, Mr. – Jasper,” I eked out before I practically ran out of his office.
I have to be honest; I so saw that whole thing going another way.
I was quiet on the way back to the hotel, where I planned to submerse myself into a bubble bath and order room service and let this new information gestate for the rest of the night.
Vanni had a girlfriend, a little detail he had forgotten to mention to me.
This was supposed to be a whirlwind week of sex and romance, and now it turned out that was true for everyone except the person out $3000 to make the damn trip in the first place.
The longer I thought about it the more steamed I got. Boy, did he have some nerve! Was he romancing me just to get some free press? Or was it funny to watch the little groupie get her hopes up only to laugh about it later with his superstar model girlfriend?
My phone buzzed and I saw it was Vanni finally checking in. It was all I could do not to chuck the phone out the window. I silenced it and didn’t give him another (kind) thought all the way back to the hotel.
As much as I wanted to avoid doing so I inhaled that manila folder with all the press clippings of Vanni and Lourdes within the first 30 minutes I was back in my room. Each word stabbed me in the gut. They met at Jasper’s and Athena’s Labor Day extravaganza and had been inseparable ever since. Movie premieres, art shows, even the Christmas tree being lit at Rockefeller Center – all of these events had proven prime publicity opportunities for the new (gorgeous) couple.
In fact they were so stunning side by side it was hard to look directly at the photo. He looked so far different from the man who had gyrated against me in a near-drunken haze at a nondescript Philadelphia bar.
What kinds of dirty thoughts might he be whispering in Lourdes’s ear? Or more importantly, what kinds of things would she be whispering back?
I threw the folder back down onto the table in disgust. Did I really harbor some romantic notion that he and I would have had a hot, steamy week amidst all the glamor and glitz of the rock and roll life?
I couldn’t believe what a twit I’d been. I was half-tempted to check out of the hotel, go back to the airport and return on an earlier flight. But I couldn’t do that to Iris, especially since she had warned me ahead of time what kind of man Vanni truly was. I had just preferred not to listen, all the while denying what I had really wanted to come to New York to do.
Getting my foot in the door was only part of the reason I booked the flight nearly two weeks after Philadelphia.
I wanted Giovanni, in large part due to the fact he wanted me too. It made me feel special, wa
nted, sexy, desirable.
All those feelings dissipated the moment I saw Lourdes in Vanni’s arms, his large hands encircling her teeny waist as he smiled big for every camera.
He really had hit the big time.
My phone buzzed again but this time I didn’t even check to see who it was. I left it vibrating on the table while I went to find sanctuary and self-satisfaction in the whirlpool tub.
I was roused the next morning by incessant knocking on my hotel door. I trudged to the door, peaked through the peep hole and then opened the door to a near-frantic Iris.
“Where have you been?”
“Asleep,” I informed her as I wiped my eyes. “And I’d like to return to it, if you don’t mind.”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” she said as she burst through the door like a force of nature. We have a busy schedule today. Rehearsals. Radio. Jasper’s party tonight. You got the itinerary, didn’t you?”
I nodded but couldn’t muster even a tenth of her enthusiasm. She was all over it. “So what’s wrong? Why aren’t you ready?”
I hesitated. It would be hard to explain. The entertainment industry didn’t stop for bruised egos; if it did nothing would ever get done. “Jet lag?” I offered.
She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “C’mon, Andy. What’s up? You were so excited the last time I talked to you. This is your big break.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Yes, indeed. A huge break to work essentially for free and have my newfound romantic dreams crushed underfoot in the process. But as soon as the sigh escaped my lips I immediately regretted it. It wasn’t fair to Iris to flake out now, especially after all she did for me to help me with something I said I wanted.
All the Vanni stuff was just a fantasy, one that I hadn’t even shared with her, so it was pointless to sit in my hotel and pout over something that was so clearly a non-issue.
The Complete Groupie Trilogy Page 3